The Way We Were
by colemen
Summary: If Peeta died, and Gale was the only one left to try helping put Katniss back together... lots of reflection on Katniss' parts. and hopes to give life and love a try.


**I really don't ship Gale/Katniss. I am Peeta/Katniss all the way. Peeta is certainly my favorite character/aspect of the trilogy. HOWEVER, I decided to do an AU/AE(alternate ending). What if Peeta and Prim died, and all that was left was Gale? And, what if it wasn't at all Gale's fault that Prim died? No connections with bomb ideas and stuff. Because if that were still true, its doubtful Katniss could ever put that aside to have Gale in her life.**

**How Peeta dies in this, is up to you. He could've died in an explosion, at the hands of mutt, gotten shot, whatever. Whether he was hijacked or not, is also up to your imagination. I'm thinking its possible he was still hijacked, with moments of lucidity, only because in here somewhere, I mention, through Katniss, how she had almost lost him so many times in so many ways. So hijacking was definitely a way he could've almost been lost to her. Or maybe no hijacking but being kept prisoner in the Capitol. ITS UP TO YOU THE READER TO DECIDE. Prim's death is also vague. I don't know if she still died from an explosion or not. Just that she died in the Capitol, at war. While we're at it, you decide if Coin got assassinated by Katniss or not. She probably did, because Coin is such a hateable character. Though she could've been killed by anyone else. UP TO YOU! She's dead though. Because she's evil. And we wouldn't want her in control of the country, and appointing new hunger games. **

**OK SORRY FOR THE RANT. So this is just an after the war is over story, of Katniss and Gale. **

**PLease read and review.**

**Disclaimer: I DO NOT OWN THE HUNGER GAMES. Rights go to Suzanne Collins.**

* * *

This is foreign for me, feeling Gale lay next to me in the dark, on my bed. There was a time before the Games, a time before the Reaping, before everything happened, that Gale and I were comfortable together. We could stay in long silences, working our snares and hunting, foraging and watching each other's backs, always trusting each other completely.

We were safe in our woods, just us. We were safe hidden from the rest of the world, working hard and finding lulls in the routine, sitting and laying lazily on the ground. We moved together like two pieces of one whole, not needing words to communicate, and not needing to communicate to make it work.

We could hug and be physically close, though never romantically close. Everything is different now. The Reaping did happen. The Games did happen. _Peeta happened_.

I don't know what made things so much more comfortable or different with Peeta.

At first, it wasn't comfortable. First it was a game of survival, an act for approval, a way to get us both home. Then it was uncomfortable, with the realization that it wasn't real for me but real for him. And somewhere along the way of pretending and being uncomfortable or atleast indifferent, it became comfortable, and needed, and even desired. Being with Peeta wasn't ever really truly difficult because he was so willing and so open.

His heart was mine from the beginning to the end, even when he was hurting, even when I was hurting him.

With Gale, it is different. I love Gale, I always have. But theres something missing with Gale, something he cannot fill up. Gale doesn't have many words, he doesn't express himself very much, and when he does, the words aren't the same as they were coming from Peeta.

Gale holds my hand in the night, trying to keep the nightmares away. They will never really go away.

It has been many months since the rebellion ended in victory. Many months since the dead have been that way.

I will never forget any of them, even if it might be easier to do it. It would hurt less to not remember that they are not here. But it would hurt more to forget the beauty they each had to offer, the things they brought to my existence, the effort they put into the war for a better world, a better life. A life that none of them will ever know.

I have grieved, and will always grieve the loss of such amazing, generally good people. The loss of such innocence.

The tears are welling up in my eyes, but I don't hide from Gale. Hiding doesn't help. Doing this alone won't help. He has told me that I don't have to do this alone. That he wants to be here for me no matter what, as long as I'll let him. He's given me the choice.

Gale continues to stare at me in the moonlight, face serious and sad. It hurts him to watch me hurt, and it hurts me that I will always be hurting him.

This silence we're in isn't the same as before the Games, when we didn't need words and we were happy in each others presence, comfortable and safe, at ease, and so close. We will never truly be the same again.

We both have new scars we didn't acquire alone together in the woods, working as a well oiled machine. We have scars from things we did on our own, and we have scars that we gave each other.

We will always feel guilty underneath everything, because of the pain we've put each other through, or the pain we watched each other in. We couldn't protect each other so well after all.

I don't resent Gale for surviving. I don't resent that he is stronger than I am. I don't hate him for everything that happened in the Capitol. Because none of it is really is fault. We were at war, and with war comes loss. We all knew the risks we were taking, and we all had our reasons for fighting it.

"Catnip."

The nickname wrenches at my heart just a little. Its been so long since we were those best friends. These days we're mostly quiet, busying ourselves with things to do, house chores, work. We move around each other, but not with each other.

I don't say anything because I don't know what to say. I just wait because when he's ready he'll say something, anything.

"I didn't want things to be like this," he says, his mouth becoming something of a grimace. His voice has changed so slightly, and I remember a time when he actually cried in front of me. It was only once. I know he's about to do it again.

I feel worse suddenly because I know he must be grieving too.

The war has been hard on all of us. Some people didn't stand a chance. Civilians unaware of the turmoil or the sides being taken, were dead before they could understand that they were being killed. Homes were burned to the ground, leaving hundreds and thousands unsheltered, with nothing at all to call their own. People trained together and fought along side each other, relationships like brotherhood born from it, only to watch each other die or worse. No one will ever really be the same.

They will know loss and war and fear. Innocence is gone for everyone who was here to watch it happen. Whether directly or indirectly, we've all seen death now.

"I know you didn't," I answer quietly.

No one did. Sometimes I feel like I had expected the uprising and the overthrow of power to be easy. Like maybe I thought it would rise quickly and end quickly, with the least amount of destruction. Maybe I didn't anticipate a full fledged war. How foolish and naive I was.

"I just... I feel like, you blame me. Or I blame myself. Like I could've done more, should've done more."

"We weren't really prepared for everything that happened that day," I say, finding it harder to breathe. Mentioning that day is something we don't do. It doesn't need a date or a name or anything. It will be forever '_That Day_.' The fateful day. The end of the war, along with the end of many things.

"We were stepping out into a whole new game, without knowing the rules. When you think about it, did we expect it to be simple and easy and that we'd get through it unscratched? We were still kids in a way. We hadn't act as such for so long, that we forgot."

Our fingers are entwined tightly. I don't remember if Gale and I have ever held hands like this before, both of us fully awake and fully aware. His touch is almost a comfort, but its still different, its still new. Peeta's hands had been soft, the boy with the bread, the artist's hands. Gale's are callused and rough, matching mine, showing how alike we are in many ways. He has the hands of a worker, a hunter, a survivor.

"Still, I was supposed to protect you. From everything." _Not from heartache, not from loss_.

"You never promised that." _Peeta promised it_. He promised to protect me from everything. From death, from hurt, from myself. He would have given anything to make me happy, even if it meant letting me go.

"I should've been able to stop what happened. I should have done more," he says bitterly.

Gale blames himself for everything I've lost. The truth is, most of it was out of our controls. It started with a handful of berries and it ended with probably more blood than has ever been spilled in seventy five years of tributes.

How could any of us have known what one moment in our lives would mean for the rest of it. That one move we make out of impulse can change the whole game? And how could any of us know the games we were playing in, the pieces we became, the bigger scheme of things? We couldn't and we didn't.

"Catnip?"

Its the second time in one night he's calling me by his old nickname for me. Its bittersweet, as if he's grasping for the way we used to be.

But we are not the way we used to be. Too much has happened and too much has changed. I never thought I'd be living with him, though I remember dreaming about escaping into the woods with him- and our families of course. Now we're hiding inside of ourselves, and this house, and we have no families to care for.

His is safe, they're slowly moving on, but they're changed too. Mine is gone. Prim is dead, my mom is burying her grief in her work somewhere in another district, Haymitch drinks away his sorrow and his memories just as much as ever, if not more, a few houses down, and Peeta is dead. I don't know where or when in time it happened, but they became my family too.

_Peeta_. It seems I can't go through a day without thinking of him. The boy who loved me. It hurts knowing how many times I almost lost him, and how I finally did. I failed them both, Prim and Peeta. My goal had always been keeping Prim alive, and then Peeta became part of that plan too. And I failed them both. I am useless.

"I love you," Gale says quietly, gently wiping away a tear.

Even if so much has changed between us, I get the feeling he still understands me, still knows what I'm thinking or feeling. We haven't picked up where we left off, there isn't any romance between us. We've gone back to being friends, or trying to be.

This is the first time he says those words again. I wonder if he means it romantically, or in the whole, best friend, or family member, platonic way. I don't know which I would prefer. I know that I'm hurting over Peeta, will probably be forever lost without him. I know that I care for Gale, always have, probably always will.

"I need you," I finally say. "I need you to help me. I don't know how to do this. I don't know how to move on and get past everything. I don't know if we're ever going to be us again, but I want to. "

He nods, his eyes understanding. His gray eyes, so like my own. I miss blue gentle ones. We shift closer together. We embrace, resting on each other. Gale is stronger than I am. I cry into his shoulder. He just lets me. We've never been good at emotions and comfort.

"When you say you love me," I finally whisper, unsure, shaky. I don't know what I'm asking. I don't know why I'm asking. I don't know if I want to know, or if its wise to know, don't know what I'll do with the answer, or whether I'll like what I hear. I don't even know what I want the answer to be. "How do you mean it?

I can feel Gale tense up. Feelings are an uncomfortable topic, has always been. We parted after the Reaping as best friends, platonic, with maybe the possibility of more, though we never spoke of it. We met again and it was all very different. We never spoke more about it, we never tried to sort things out. There were just stolen kisses, anxious held hands, a whispered I love you, and a terrible response of 'I know.' Nothing more really.

"I...," he pauses and then exhales ,"don't really know."

Well then that makes two of us, I think. We certainly care for each other as we were once best friends. We care for each other because how could we not, after all of these years, and all the time we spent together, and everything we went through together? We care for each other because of the ghosts of our past, this inability to let go of all that time.

I don't know when or how we end up brushing noses together and then kissing. The kiss is warm and soft. I once kissed these lips and felt that there was no comparison to them. I saddens me to feel that, although I like these lips, they're not the ones I really want anymore. There is a comparison after all. It turns out those other lips won the competition. They touched my heart.

I'm crying into this kiss, into a series of kisses. But Gale is strong. He doesn't cry with me, though surely this must be just as bittersweet and sorrowful to him as well.

We break apart and look at each other. He smiles a sad smile.

"I didn't want to win like this."

"I know."

"I wanted you to choose me."

"I know."

"You loved him. I know that. I know you so well. Even if you didn't know your own feelings, I did. You loved him. He won your heart. With bread and kind gestures and sweet words. I'm not good at those things but I can try. I know you miss him every day, and I know you always will. I know that he was the best guy for you. I know that you will never love me in exactly the same way, in the same amount as you loved him. I can accept that. I'll even be there for you if and when you want to talk about it, about him. I don't want you to forget him, or stop loving him. He deserves to be remembered and loved. I know I can never fill up that part of your life that he did, but I will try my best to make you happy again, or close to it." He stops. Breathes. "If you'll let me try."

It's the most he's ever said at one time, that wasn't a speech ruled by rage and hatred towards something. The first time he's ever said anything that reveals his feelings, that makes him almost vulnerable.

I don't know that he can replace Peeta, but he knows that too, which makes it okay and yet not okay. It makes it that much more painful.

How did we become so broken? In less than two years our lives have been turned upside down. And now we're broken.

"We can try," I say. "I can't promise you anything though."

He nods. "I know."

"Okay."

"Okay."

Trying begins tonight, holding each other, tentatively kissing. Sometimes talking in whispers. We share our feelings about the past, our fears about the future, our uncertainty about everything. I miss Peeta, wish he could be the one I'm holding, holding me. I'll love Peeta always. But I owe it to Peeta to try, to live. It was always what he wanted.

Gale and I will never be what we used to be. But we can try.

We've both grown up so much in such a short amount of time. And maybe thats for the better. Maybe we can fully understand each other now, be whatever the other needs, leave expectations aside. Instead of trying to be the way we were, we can accept the way we are, the way we'll be. We can try and move forward together.


End file.
